Sam's Journal
by iluvaqt
Summary: Season 2, Sam Winchester's thoughts during and post episodes.
1. In My Time Of Dying

**Sam's Journal**

**Disclaimer:** All rights to the series characters belong to Warner Bros. No infringement of copyright is intended by their use in this work of fiction, from which no profit is being made or will be derived.  
**Notes:** Timeline follows what's revealed within episodes where applicable.

* * *

Ask me a year ago, if I thought we'd end up here and I would have first laughed in your face and then looked for the camera. I left weapon's training, bullet making, creature-demon hunting behind over four years ago. I hadn't seen Dad in years and I hadn't spoken to Dean in at least two. My past was a distant unpleasant memory. The gun-toting, combat-trained, angry-at-the-world Sam was a far cry from the successful, college-educated Sam. The night I found Dean in my apartment my first instinct was to get him out before Jess saw him. I ashamed to say that I was embarrassed by him. I never talked about my family to any of my friends. I couldn't have thought up a worse way for him and Jess to meet. He looked like his usual roughed up but super-charming self. And I hated that appraising look in his eye when he roamed over Jess' body. He was always so sure of himself, on both types of hunt. I went with him mostly to keep the damage to a minimum. It'd shut him up and get him out of there. Hopefully I wouldn't have to tell Jess anything more than a few sparse details to satisfy what curiosity Dean had sparked. It was only going to be a couple of days. We'd find Dad, Dean would be happy and I'd get back to my life. How deluded I was.

**Day 1**

I can't believe he's really dead. He always seemed invincible to me. I don't know why I thought that. Especially considering the risks of this job. And how much death we saw. When I went to see him this morning I knew something wasn't right. But Dean was in trouble and everything else took a backseat. After I got him what he asked for from Bobby, I should have done something to stop him. Hell, I could have told him to shove his list. Bobby said it wasn't for protection.

Dean's wrong about one thing. Yes, I hated everything Dad was about but I never stopped caring. I left because I couldn't stand the lies anymore. Dad pretended it was about protecting people. Stopping others from getting hurt when the truth was he was on a one man crusade for revenge. He always said we couldn't get emotionally involved. Anger, hate, fear - it left you wide open for possession. What a hypocrite.

Damn him. Damn him for starting this. Damn him for bringing me back. Damn him for being right. And the worst of it, damn him for dying.

Dean hasn't said a word about anything. They discharged him this afternoon. How could he stay, there's nothing wrong with him. I'd call it a miracle but I know it has nothing to do with divine intervention. Dad summoned the demon and there was a reaper around. Doesn't take a genius to figure out who was responsible for bringing Dean back. I just can't shake the feeling that Dad gambled more than the Colt to make it happen.

Dad saw Dean right before he died. He had to have said something. Did he know? I just wish... I mean, haven't we sacrificed enough? When's it gonna end?


	2. Everybody Loves A Clown

**Day 2**

We burned and buried Dad tonight. The whole time I couldn't shake this eerie feeling. We were following his wishes but it felt like I was just doing a job. Like it was some stranger who's spirit we were vanquishing. Standing there watching the orange flames lick up the fuel and envelop his body, I felt numb. It was so quiet I could have easily made the mistake of feeling like I was alone. Dean still hasn't send more than two words. Most of the time he gives a grunted reply and brushes everything off with a shrug and "Okay, yeah or fine."

I know he was closer to Dad but hey, I'm feeling it too. I'm dealing here but he's clammed up and pretending like nothing happened. I know he's hurting. There's not a crack of sarcasm or the hint of a smirk. Bobby made a lame attempt at a joke about the old days to lighten up the vibe at dinner and it was though Dean didn't even hear him.

Maybe he just need a couple days to process. After Jess died, I didn't feel like eating, let alone talking. I felt guilty. Guilty because I knew what was going to happen and I ignored it. Guilty because I knew in the back of my mind that I had no right to get involved with her without telling her the truth about my past. Dad was right about a lot of things and I chose to stick it to him. I was so sure that he was the cause of all my problems. That if I got far enough away, I'd have a normal life and the nightmares would end. Turns out I was the one lying. I could have saved Jess by never leaving home. Maybe I could have even stopped any of this from happening if I'd stayed like Dad and Dean wanted. You want to know the worst of it - I didn't just lose him, I lost all the time I could have spent just... I let him think I hate him. He died thinking I blamed him for everything. I can't take it back. I wish I could have told him how much I respected him, how much I learned from him. I wish I could have told him I was proud that he was my Father.

Dad's gone. I wish Dean would talk about it.

**Day 16**

Haven't played over that day in my head for a week. Been keeping busy trying to make sense of Dad's notes and trying to get a new lead. There's been nothing in the paper raising any red flags and Bobby says everything's been quiet. He's either lying because he thinks we're not ready for it or the demon really has gone underground for the time being. I wish I thought to ask Dad how to read the signs. I keep wondering if we had more time. Those three days seem to blur together. I try not to keep second guessing everything I did but I can't help it. Could I have paid more attention when Dad was training us how to use the guns. Maybe I should have let Dean go after the demon, instead of insisting all time how much I need to kill it for Jess. He let me do it because he thought it's what I needed to do.

It could have all ended in Isabelle's nursery. Instead now Dad's dead and the demon's gone. Dad spent almost his whole life hunting that thing. Maybe if I'd listened to him and done what he asked... No way. Even if I had shot him and killed the demon. I won't have been able to live with his death on my conscience. And who's to say that shooting him would have killed it? Maybe it could have somehow escape and I would have killed Dad for nothing. Jess always said there was no point second guessing yourself and regrets were for people who lived life in the past, but I can't help it. I've wasted so much time fighting him, running away. I guess the best thing I can do is not make the same mistakes again. I ignored the warnings before. That won't happen again.

I've tried everything to get Dean to open up. He won't even talk about what happened in the hospital. He says he can't remember but I don't buy it. I talked to him while he was in a coma. He'd said he was hunting a reaper. He'd been so close to death, the doctors had said it was hopeless. That there was nothing left to do but wait. Wait for him to die. And then all of a sudden he's awake and there was no a thing wrong with him. He'd come out in better shape than me. And not five minutes later, Dad's dead. Coincidences don't exist in our world. I'd challenge anyone to prove they happened at all. Maybe the universe really does need a balance. A life for a life? Was someone controlling the reaper? Dean didn't mention anything sinister. But we'd seen it happen before. Maybe Dad knew it was the only way to save Dean. Why didn't he say anything? He let me think he was being selfish. He let me get angry, why? Did he like having friction between us? He blamed me for what happened to Dean. It's not fair. How could he put that on me? How could he have expected me to pull the trigger? I'm not like Dean. I'm not really to kill. The demon yes, but anyone else...

I have so many questions. He was the one person that had the answers, I'm sure of it. I would never believed that things could have gotten any worse for us. I really hope Dean wants answers as badly as I do. Maybe this Ellen can help us.

**Day 18**

I asked Ellen for the file because I wanted a way to bring the old Dean back. He was always comfortable on the job. It was familiar territory for him. It was his old shoe. He said all he could do was work on the car but he was wrong. The car's his distraction. It's keeping him from dealing with reality. When he said I was putting my issues onto him, he was right. I am trying to make up for what I didn't do when Dad was around. I'm trying to do what's right now. Even if it is too little, too late, I'm dealing with my guilt. I'm facing the hurt. I'm trying to get over what's lost. But he's just holing it up. He's wound up so tight I'm surprised he didn't snap after we survived that fun house.

I really don't know if I prefer the on-the-hunt persona, "I can handle anything, I'm not afraid of anything," pretending nothing's happened or if the silent, brooding is better. At least if he's brooding, I can assume he's thinking about it.

So I've admitted I've got issues. I don't expect him to cry or open up to me. But get angry, yell, throw punches, anything. This unemotional, together, silent-type is bullshit. I can't remember ever seeing Dean cry. I wouldn't expect to see him start now, but show something. Heck, I'd even take morbid sarcasm.

Hold on, Bobby's saying something.

Watching Dean trash the Impala sent shivers down my spine. The way he treated the old car was something a kin to holy reverence. I always thought Dean treasured the car so much because it was Dad's. So it's not the same Impala but seeing him beat the crap out the car said a lot to how he was feeling. He'd never tell me, but it's comforting to know I'm not the only one who's angry about the choice Dad made. Even if it was because he felt it was the only one to be made. It would have been nice for once in his life he'd stopped looking at me like a kid and told me what was going on. If he'd just talked about it, I'm sure we could have found another way.


	3. Bloodlust

**Day 24**

Tell me how the circle ends  
There's no beginning  
Everything that came before  
Will come round again  
And I look in the mirror  
My father's eyes look back at me

He gave me a road to choose  
And I pray I'm strong enough  
To walk in his shoes  
And I hope that I become  
Half the man he'd want me to be  
Cos I feel you guiding me  
Showin me the way when I'm misdirected  
I know your not here but I feel connected

Cos everything that I am  
Comes from a better man  
And all that I've said and done  
Can't rewrite my history  
Right there for all to see  
I'm just my father's son  
Taught me to walk, now I run  
(excerpt lyrics belong to Shannon Noll "Now I Run", Sony/BMG)

You can live life lamenting over what could have been, what you might have done. Or you can live with the resolve to change and learn, grow. It's taken me a couple of weeks but I've finally got my head around these mixed feelings. Part of me felt lost and it would have been so easy to fall into the old routine of wake up, prepare for class or writing that paper, hanging out with friends, drinking beer and talking about movies or good books. And then there was this ever increasing nagging weight of responsibility. It's not just because I initially felt like I owed Dad. And it wasn't because I felt I had to look out for Dean either, I just felt like I needed to do it. Not for Mom, not for Dad or for Jess. Just because it started to feel right for me. That it was something I was supposed to do. Maybe even destined to do. Crazy huh, since I spent a good chunk of my life wishing I'd never learnt the ugly truth about this part of the universe. Whoever said ignorance is bliss is waiting for this door to smack them into an early grave.

The Impala is only a few days away from being road ready. Dean's buzzing around like a corn on hot plate. I've never seen him so hyped. Think kid at Christmas. Bobby's lined up to get the car sprayed and baked. It's freaky just looking at the work Dean's done. The car was pretty much totaled. We were able to salvage some of the electrics, the seats, the wheel, the tires, the badging, the plates but the body was a bent beyond repair. We scrubbed down and patched up the upholstery. It took tripping over most of the county and calling all of Bobby's contacts but we managed to scrounge up a body and a new engine. Starting pretty much from scratch I thought it would take months to put it all together. Underestimated Dean's talent with a ratchet and some grease. I wish he'd have let me help, but Dean's about as good at seeming needy as he is at honest conversation.

**Day 34**

Hit the road yesterday. I've learnt quite a few things between now and then. Oh and sporting a solid fat bruise on my jaw, among others.

Lesson 1# Always trust your instincts.

My first impression of Gordon was keep this guy under a wary eye. There was just something in his mannerism. There are two reasons that someone would want to hunt alone. They were concerned for the safety of others, or they didn't want any witnesses to hold them accountable for their actions. He struck me as the latter from the get go. Dad never made a job seem like a game, sport or something to smile about. He never smiled about death. Sure he got carried away more than a handful of times were he came back to the car gritty and blood and wouldn't talk for a week, but he never gloated or looked smug over a kill. Honestly I've been worried about Dean's enthusiasm for the hunt before but when I watched him kill that vampire it really freaked me out. It was a side I'd never seen of him before, I knew that look in his eye - satisfaction. He even confessed that he enjoyed it. Then there's hope for the guy yet. Admitting you've got issues is the first step in the right direction. And I'm not going to let him give up on the guy that made me stay either. Dean's a good guy. He has all the best things Dad had to offer and more. I like to think that Mom was the voice of reason, the goodness, caring for others and heart of the family. Dean has that, it's just the loss that's making him see all the ugliness and forget the good that does exist.

Lesson 2# Never undervalue Dean's penchant to carry a weapon

If he hadn't had the gun we'd all me dead and I wasn't worried about Lenore. Okay maybe just for a second when those fangs came out. But last night she'd convinced me to trust her. Eli was another story, but we wouldn't have gotten the chance to worry about him. Gordon was going to carve us all up to finish of Lenore. This job has made me think a lot of things through. Not just because we might have killed things that didn't deserve to die. But that there were all kinds of levels of suffering. I can't imagine what it's like to remember your life before and wishing you could go on as you always did but not being able to. Not just because people are hunting you for what you've become, but having to constantly fight against a nature you didn't chose. I wonder if there's a way to turn back? Before the Colt we thought the only option we had going for us was to send the demon to hell. Who knows how many other avenues we can take in dealing with the evil we face. At least Lenore and her family have two less hunters to worry about. Unless they decided to put people back on the menu. Although I'd like to hope that as long as she's around, that won't happen.

Lesson 3# Dodge!

How long have we been brothers? And I still haven't clued in. Duck, dodge, block, do something! That was always Dean's answer for everything. Have a good punch on. I could never get that. Dad and Dean would have a wrestle where clothes got torn, lips and eyebrows got split, furniture got broken and afterward it would be a punch on the shoulder or a hair tussle and it'd either be over with smirks or start up again. That was a show of affection. No wonder I felt like an outcast. I didn't fit their mould. If I'd been old enough to remember Mom, I like to think I was like her. Reason through my feelings rather than take them out on the nearest inanimate object. I guess the best way to deal is to accept that it's never going to be any different, just be prepared next time.

Lesson 4# There's no such thing as black and white

Just as there's no such thing as a quick, easy job. I've never felt a reason to celebrate a kill after a hunt. The feelings have just never been there. Only relief that we survived and saved a life or future unsuspecting innocents.

Dean might think that Dad made mistakes raising us, but at least he knew who to call friends and who steer clear from. He did his best, and considering we're still here and we're together, he did a pretty damn good job. He taught us how to survive, and if that meant kill and ask questions later, then there's definitely more than one occasion where that lesson saved our lives. Dad never mentioned Ellen but I think he kept her message for a reason. Maybe he knew we'd need her help some day, or maybe he kept her offer as Plan B, guess we'll never know. Dean still hasn't talked about how he feels about Dad's death. I know I was right about how Dean saw Gordon, or I wouldn't have earned that right hook. I had mixed feelings about leaving them alone together but it was one thing I knew he had to fight through himself. Would have been nice to have him not end up black and blue to realize it though.

I know I'm coping better than he is. Not because I admitted everything I was feeling but because I have him. Dean is more like Dad than he'll ever give himself credit for. He has his strength, his drive and determination, he's better at hunting than anyone I've ever met, not that I'll ever tell him that. He's got a big enough ego as it is, but having him around takes edge off the pain. It's just another thing I can feel guilty about. I already have my substitute to fill the void Dad left.

If he would just admit how much he's hurting. Doesn't he know I won't care that he's capable of those feelings? I won't think any less of him, he'll still be the big brother, he'll still be the glue of the family. I just want him to stop thinking of me as little Sammy who needs sheltering, who needs an example to follow, who needs protecting. I'm not that chubby, scared, little kid anymore. I know we'll never be equals in this job but I want him to see me as someone he can confide in. Someone he doesn't have to put a game face on for. I'm far from perfectly together. There are a lot of questions I have and I'm no closer to answers than I was a year ago, but I am sure as hell not going to give up searching. We'll find out why and how Dad died. And why I see the things I see in my dreams and why I have these strange abilities. Here's to hoping some day Dean will learn that I can do one better than watch his back. I'll help him keep the darkness from taking his soul.


	4. Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things

**Day 36**

I just woke up disorientated with my heart pounding in my chest. I don't want to forget a single image so I'm going to write exactly what happened. It was a dream but it felt real, as though I was standing back in that hospital. When I woke up, it took a minute to realize that I'd fallen asleep at the library, while Dean had gone for supplies.

The glass flew off the table top and fell in slow motion. When it hit the linoleum, the glass shattered and the water sloshed across the floor. I remember feeling a tingling sensation crawl over my skin and the hair prick up on the back of my neck, and a feeling as though someone was boring a hole in my head with their angry stare. Dean always hated it when Dad and I argued. It's why I immediately suspected that he was there, listening.

The lighting changed and the surroundings felt different. Cold. I was walking with measured steps. Waiting in the shadows, watching a hunched figure, crouched ahead. The smell of sulfur filled my senses. The person turned. It's Dad. I've never seen him so tired. There are tears in his eyes but his face is a mask of control. It's his game face. Whatever he's about to do, he's a picture of determination. I step closer and he raises the Colt and points it directly at me. I stop moving, frozen to the spot. His lips move. He's talking to me but there's no sound coming out of his mouth.

Suddenly I feel a strange sensation wash over me. It's like a breeze but both hot and cold at the same time. Dad wasn't aiming at me at all. The figure that passed through me turned and I saw those tell-tale glowing eyes. They're talking. Dad isn't shooting him. Why? Dad hangs his head and lowers the gun and the demon dissipates.

The room changes again and this part happens so fast I can't be sure I'm recalling it, or I'm making it up as I go now. Parts felt like flashes of scenes, glimpses of faces, jots of feeling. What I remember clearly was my heart skipping a beat and gasping for air after unconsciously holding my breath.

"It's your lucky day, kid."

Dean is standing with his back to the wall and I shove my fingers into his head. I feel the action and an awesome strength flowing through me. There's a warm rush passing down my arm and out my fingertips but the hand isn't mine.

Then in a blink, I look down and my hand has changed again. It's not delicate and smooth with manicured nails, it's aged, tanned and work worn. I set the Colt down on the table and look up. The true owner of those pretty hands is smiling across at me with those devilish eyes.

"Nice to know you're a man of your word."

Those slender fingers pierce my forehead and a scream forms in my throat but never leaves my lips.

At that point I woke up in a cold sweat. What does it all mean?

I'm worried about the conclusions I'm coming to. This only confirms the suspicions I had about Dad's death. Dean and I both know that the demon had something to do with it. But a trade off? Life for a life? If I was faced with that decision, I know what I would have done. It's no contest. Dean's all I've got. But I keep wondering just what went down at that hospital. If only Dean could remember. Hah that's a laugh. I've got to get him to want to talk first.

**Day 39**

Should have remembered it's always in threes? Turns out I did break something - my wrist in two places and had a bit of chipped bone floating around the middle of my hand. Weak my ass. Like to see him wrestle a zombie. Should' a thought to check my tally the minute Dean started harping the idea of unholy ground. Good thing I never fully gave up track or I could have ended up like Neil. Luckily Dean managed to piece it together before Angela killed her ex-roommate. Although, hindsight tells me that it has a lot more to do with gut instinct, experience and a trained eye. I have to admit, if it weren't for Dean's obsessive need to hunt at the moment, who knows how many people she could have killed. Unfortunately, Neil's lesson came too late. You should never play with dead things.

It's so strange. It's been years and neither of us have been to mum's gravestone, but I didn't feel awkward about being there. With all the craziness that's gone on, I felt an odd sense of peace just thinking about her. At first I thought Dean's reluctance to go and see her grave was because of his unwillingness to accept that they were both gone. But it was the whole zombie, undead thing with Angela that hit a raw chord. I always assumed that he had trouble dealing because he and Dad were so close. It never once crossed my mind that he felt guilty about being the one who lived. I guess it's because I was so grateful that he was okay.

I didn't expect him to open up. At least not the way he did. Really not sure what I expected, but after the amount of adamant protests that he was fine and threats of bodily harm, perhaps a couple more weeks of blatantly avoiding the subject. Maybe more brooding and stony glares when Dad's name was mentioned, and another swing in my direction at my assessment that he wasn't okay. I was going to give him another day or two before hiding his keys and the alternator to get him to cool his heels for a minute. It's practically been one job after the next and I've had to watch him slip further and further away from reality. Sometimes I think I've got him pegged and other times he's scary and completely unpredictable. There are so many sides to Dean. I seriously underestimated how complex he is. I almost wish that I was one of those many women who only ever saw the smooth-talking, average guy. Almost. They never see the burden of responsibility he carries, the veiled, sad look in his eyes, the deep sigh he lets out late at night when he thinks I'm already asleep. It's a sound that betrays the weariness he feels, the ache over what's lost, what we might never have and what we have to face. I could have remained ignorant about him. I could have gone on blissfully happy in my life pretending that I had no family. Now I can't picture my life without him in it.

He'll never say it but he blames me for not letting him go. He never brings it up but I bet he wishes we never went to Nebraska now that Dad's gone. He asked me what I could possibly say to make it all right. I couldn't tell him what he wanted to hear. Him dying wasn't all right by me. Not then and not ever - not like that anyway. He's supposed to die old and gray and even then I'm not sure I'd handle it well. Odd thing about that is I can't picture Dad or Dean old and gray. Maybe it's my subconscious trying to prepare me for a reality I'm not ready to accept yet. In this business I don't think anyone gets to die of old age.

I guess the only positive in all this - Dean finally gave his tough guy routine a rest.


	5. Simon Said

**Day 43**

Seriously, someone care to explain to me how this vision thing is supposed to work? Sometimes they're way early, and sometimes too late and rarely do they make any sense. Like last week for instance. It felt too real to be an average dream but it came after the fact. The Dean and Dad deal. I know I'm right when I told Dean they're all to do with the demon. Even if it's not always directly involved, it's agenda is what's causing these things to happen.

Just drop an anvil on me already. I'm sure it wouldn't hurt any less. At least the post-pain's easing up. It's that or I'm just getting used to it. Although, something tells me that's unlikely. The last couple have been more painful. It feels like someone's swinging a sledge hammer around in my skull and it's gonna explode any minute. It isn't until my ears are ringing and I can't see anymore that the imagines in my head get clear. If Dean hadn't stopped the car when he did, I might have just fallen out while it was moving. I can't see straight, I'm not thinking clearly, I'm completely out of my mind. I don't have a choice about what's happening. Any physiotherapist will tell you to breathe through pain. It'll help you manage to a degree without chemical intervention but I can't even do that. I'm not thinking at all just reacting. I can't even remember putting my hand on the door and pulling the handle. The first clear thought I had after seeing Tracey jump was feeling Dean's strong hands and his voice. He's been there for all of them. I often wonder how I'd come out of them he wasn't. Or if it'd come out of them. When I'm asleep and I wake up after one of them, it's the same feeling like a headache's passed. Your head feels a bit oversized and At least what I'm supposed to be doing gets more plain everyday. With guys like Webber out there, it makes sense that there are some of us who'll be immune to their abilities. There's gotta be a balance right?

I'm trying to understand why we were too late to save Andy's mom. Maybe it was to tell us that we were trying to pin the wrong guy. I just don't know why I get these darn premonitions if I can't save them anyway. Andy's right. It's sucks. I keep wondering if I'm cursed or something. Bad things happen around me all the time, and a lot of the time there's nothing I can do to stop it. At least that's what I've been telling myself. It's the only way I can deal with this.

I keep coming back to Jessica. With Mom, I was six months old. I don't even remember her, and what can a baby do honestly, except holler? And they can't even do that on cue. But Jessica. For Jessica I could have done something. Stay away for one. The demon said enough for all of us to know I was the one that killed her. If we hadn't been so close, if she hadn't been such a big part of my life…I could go on forever with the if onlys.

Dean says I'm different and he's right. I'm a freak in too many ways to count. I was afraid for Dean with how he was dealing with Dad's death but really what I was doing, was covering up how freaked I am of what I'm capable of. I keep telling myself I've got to watch out for Dean, keep him on the straight and narrow when any minute I could go psycho. Who knows what the demon did to me when I was a kid. For all I know I'm preprogrammed like a ticking time bomb.

I guess Dean's always gonna be Dean. He'll do everything to hide that he has any weaknesses. The only reason I got to find out about the flying thing was because we had to get on a plane. Some people never set foot in one. I guess considering our last flying experience, who wouldn't be afraid of flying. Dean's always in control. Makes sense that situations out of his control scare him. Which why I don't by any of this do-over crap. He was telling the truth. Like being roofied, my ass. He's as scared as I am. At least he's sticking with me. I get where Andy's coming from. What do we do now? It's something I'd like to know. Dean doesn't know how important he is. We're getting pushed all right. And sometimes I think having him around is all that's keeping me together. Every time I get these visions something in the back of my mind has me wondering if I'm partly responsible for what happens the these people. Not because I can't save them, but what if I'm the one that's giving directions. The demon knows Dean's trigger. He's ready to kill, he's said as much more than half a dozen times. Under the right pressure and if circumstances call for it, he'll do it, no question. But what about me?


	6. No Exit

**Day 49 **

We never can catch a break for more than a couple days. Not that I don't like keeping busy, don't get me wrong. Leaves a lot less time to dwell on things outside my control. Like trying to process this latest bombshell that we can do nothing about but have every reason to try and fix.

I'm not an eavesdropper. I hate being a snoop. Okay I lied, I kind of have a double standard. I hate people checking up on me but I'll be a dirt digger. Hell seems like it's all I do nowadays. Air peoples dirty laundry. Most of them deceased, yeah so much for rest in peace. Seems old habits die hard. Ever since we were kids, I couldn't help always wanting to know what was going on with Dean. Put it down to little brother syndrome. But it wasn't like she tried to be discreet about it. I didn't even have to strain to hear what they were talking about.

Our dad got her dad killed, how do you deal with that? I'm trying to remember what job it would have been but nothing stands out. To be honest I never took all that much notice. It wasn't the side of Dad I wanted to acknowledge. His obsession with hunting the demon was the cause of all the fights we had. My not wanting to co-operate with his training, my not wanting anything to do with that life. He was never really a proper father in my eyes, he was mostly a stranger and at best a drill sergeant. He wasn't interested in my education beyond high school and I was glad he didn't care. It meant that I could pour myself into books and assignments without more than a disgruntled sigh at my excuses. Didn't stop him from having me play catch up over the summers though. He'd ride me till it felt like the gun was an extension of my hand and there wasn't a spot on me that wasn't yellow or blue, with fresh or faded bruises.

I guess I always understood the reason why Dad was bullheaded about hunting alone, but this just gives it more weight. Sure he took us away with him a couple times but we never went on an actual hunt. Staying at the nearest road house, motel or in the car doesn't count. With the exception of that shtriga episode that I seem to have no memory of. It took just about coming to blows in the middle of a highway and his almost chewed up to admit he might actually need us. It finally makes sense why he never mentioned Ellen. Man this sucks. Just when I thought we were making something of a bad situation. I don't get it. She still considers Dad a friend, yet she doesn't, didn't, trust him or us. Not enough to let Jo come along. Not that I think that was a good idea anyway.

On the up side, without her help we wouldn't have been able to take out the spirit like we did. Who knows how many other girls he could have killed if Jo hadn't looked into the case. With so many of Dad's contacts gone we've lost a lot of our leads. Which is another reason we need to mend the relationship with the Harvelles. It's not like we can't work this job alone, but we can help a lot more people if someone else is doing some of the research.

When Dean went out to check out the girl's apartment, Jo and I actually got a chance to talk. The vibe I got from day one was always plutonic curiosity. Which was no surprise really. With Dean and I, he was always the one that drew the girls. Started in grade school. He was always the charismatic, extroverted one. At least on the surface. Growing up the way we did, it messes you up. He dealt by having two completely opposite sides. Me, I just kept to myself. Sammy, the chubby, scruffy haired, quiet kid. It's taken me this long to admit that I was exactly like Dean. I had two sides too. I just pretended the other one didn't exist up until a year ago.

I can see why Jo's attracted to Dean. And it's more than just the usual. I think she envies him. He does what her dad did. She wants to but can't because she's an only child and all Ellen has left. There's that and she's a girl. Yeah, you can say I'm sexist, but it's true. People will always come back to that argument no matter what evidence you provide to the contrary. I know that's what Ellen's thinking. Talk about uncomfortable silences. Pennsylvania to Nebraska, that ride back was more than awkward and I wasn't even stuck in the front seat. Jo's not a kid anymore but in a parent's eyes, especially a mom's, you never stop being one. I've met enough grieving parents to know. If I were in Ellen's shoes there's no way I'd let my daughter hunt either.

But then there's not allowing and having no choice. When it came down to it, Dad could have hogtied me in the basement. He could have drained my savings account and declined my acceptance to Stanford for me, but he didn't. He let me go, grudgingly and with threats but he accepted my decision. Looking back, I disappointed him but I'm glad he let me make my own mistakes. I just wish I could have told him how I feel now. How much I love him and how much I respect him. Things could have been so different. Man, I miss you Dad.

My arm is killing me. Yep, I'm digressing, something hurts too much, focus on a different kind of pain. You don't realize how much you use our hands till you can't. And I think I've been over compensating on my good arm. Doc says it shouldn't be more than a couple more weeks till I get this thing off, but then there's the self-rehab. It's a scaphoid fracture. Lucky it happened near the base of my thumb and not one of the bones in the middle of my hand. Those require surgery and sometimes never fully heal. I've got to wear this cast for eight weeks and then a protective brace for another six weeks after the cast comes off. Technically I'm not supposed to be using my hand at all but in our line of work that's impossible. Try climbing a ladder with a torch, gun and only one good hand, I'm not part ape.


End file.
